Monday, October 22, 2018

The Paranoia By Jay Passer

I worry about the finger
Pointing down from on high
At the surly plus the wretched
At the plucky impoverished
All of whom fuel the city
While individually sweating on
Needles and pins
I worry about the souls of cats
Of crows, of dragons and titmice
Even my roommates, the cucarachas
As freedom grows scarce
And scars accumulate
Air ghosting gray before blackening
I fret and pace
Something’s coming, somebody
Trailing morbidity like a cowl
The finger pointing
Down further, inciting molten masses
Bodies unwashed and writhing
Drones keeping watch
Cameras surveilling
A town burned to the ground
A city stealth-bombed from on high
Not a moment alone
Not a second of privacy
The finger coming down
Plugging the hole
Closing the distance
Between tangible and clairvoyant

About Jay Passer:
Jay Passer's work has appeared in print and online since 1988. His work has been included in several anthologies and he is the author of 10 books, the most recent being The Black and the Blues, from Alien Buddha Press, 2018. Passer lives and works in San Francisco, the city of his birth.

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